


Lovers lying two and two

by mildred_of_midgard



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: BDSM, Discussion of Past Off-Page Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Forced Marriage, Friends With Benefits, Happily Ever After, Healing Old Wounds, Hohenzollerns Have Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentorship, Miscommunication, Pining, Treat, married with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildred_of_midgard/pseuds/mildred_of_midgard
Summary: When the object of your affections is larger than life, like Frederick the Great or his brother Henry, falling in love can be easier than living with that love. Fortunately for Count Lehndorff, his friend Peter Keith has been there before him.
Relationships: Ariane-Louise von Knyphausen & Ernst Ahasverus von Lehndorff, Ariane-Louise von Knyphausen/Peter Karl Christoph von Keith, Ernst Ahasverus von Lehndorff & Henry of Prussia, Ernst Ahasverus von Lehndorff & Peter Karl Christoph von Keith, Ernst Ahasverus von Lehndorff/Henry of Prussia, Ernst Ahasverus von Lehndorff/Peter Karl Christoph von Keith, Frederick the Great & Henry of Prussia, Frederick the Great/Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, Frederick the Great/Peter Karl Christoph von Keith, Henry of Prussia/Johann Baptist Mara
Comments: 14
Kudos: 9
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	1. 1750

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/gifts).



> Some creative liberties have been taken with the chronology, most notably a fictional visit by one of the characters to Rheinsberg. See the end notes for details.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta raspberryhunter for patience and support throughout the many iterations this went through.

Count Ernst von Lehndorff and Ariane von Keith were the last two still playing faro at the gaming tables in the Queen's hall. Lehndorff always thought Ariane was a lot of fun at cards, even if she was steadfast about not playing for money. To avoid giving offense, she'd tell people her husband was strict about expenses, but Lehndorff, who was good friends with both of them, knew she was equally adamant about frugality, and that Peter von Keith would play the henpecked husband when he needed an excuse of his own.

It didn't matter. Lehndorff played for coffee beans and bonbons with Ariane with just as much enjoyment as if the stakes had been high, and they chattered happily. He'd just returned from an excursion with the three royal princes, and he had a great deal to share.

"Then Prince Heinrich told me all about his plans to renovate the palace at Rheinsberg the King gave him. Actually, he's starting with the grounds." Lehndorff was about to launch into a description of Heinrich's truly excellent taste and the impressive amount of learning that underlay it, when he noticed the ambivalent expression on Ariane's face.

"I'm sorry. Have I gone on too long? It's just that it's so rare for something this exciting to happen."

"Not at all," she said with a smile. "I want to hear every detail about the princes. I only, as your friend, need to tell you," and here she lowered her voice, even though the room was mostly empty, "that the Queen wasn't too pleased at how long her chamberlain was away without leave."

Lehndorff breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't committed a faux pas. "You're kind, but don't worry yourself," he reassured her. "Their Highnesses enjoyed it enough to invite me on another outing with them, and Her Majesty won't find many people waiting to jump at the chance to replace me."

Hinting that this might not be anyone's dream job was as far as he'd go toward criticizing the Queen aloud, but the privacy of his thoughts concealed a neverending stream of complaints about the unimaginable boredom of working for her. Worse, the King's indifference to his wife meant that the position of royal chamberlain, which had sounded so prestigious when Lehndorff took it, was a surefire way of never getting anywhere in life. This was a court with no king, where courtiers and foreign visitors met and talked and played cards and shared their frustration at the lack of anything important or even interesting happening.

The only advantage of working here was the chance to associate with the royal princes, and Lehndorff meant to take every opportunity to enjoy it he could get, while he tried to angle for a position at the court where life moved like a flowing river, instead of this stagnant backwater.

"Well, she has my pity," Ariane said, pulling another card from the deck. "Married to a man who never wants to see her, no hope of children. Knowing everyone would rather be at the King's court than hers, but he refuses to have more to do with anyone he doesn't know and like than he can help…"

"At least she's married to someone she can love!" Lehndorff burst out. "Prince Heinrich is having to get married, and he'll never look at a woman with desire as long as he lives."

He could see in her expression that she shared his sorrow, but there was nothing she could say to make it better. "On a happier note, when is your wedding?"

Lehndorff sucked in a sudden, sharp breath. "I wish I knew. We were making plans, but now her parents are trying to pressure her into a marriage that will be more advantageous for them. I've told her no marriage for advantage will bring her as much love as I can promise her, but her father's convinced I'm after her money, and now he's forbidding me to see her."

"Oh, no!" Ariane exclaimed.

As she was saying this, a voice called her name. They both looked up from their cards to see her husband approaching. It was bad timing, but Lehndorff's smile wasn't only for politeness' sake. He'd always liked Lieutenant Colonel Keith, and it was rare to see him here at the Queen's court, so Lehndorff was glad when he did.

"Count Lehndorff, how good to see you."

Lehndorff rose and greeted him. "Likewise. I'll stop talking your good wife's ear off."

"No, no." Keith smiled, but he looked a little distracted. "I won't be long. I was actually hoping to find the Baroness?"

"Mother?" Ariane said, quizzically. "She was walking in the gardens, the last I knew. Is everything all right?"

"Quite," Keith said, "or at least I hope so." He turned to the servant accompanying him, and then Lehndorff saw that the man was carrying a box. "You can set that down on the table here, and then see if the Baroness von Knyphausen is anywhere to be found in the gardens. Tell her I have something for her."

Lehndorff and Ariane examined the box curiously, once it was placed between them. It was of a good size without being exactly large, and lacquered in the chinoiserie style.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your game," Keith apologized to them both, as he took a chair, "but I'm dying of curiosity."

"We all are," said Ariane, and Lehndorff agreed vigorously. Finally, something exciting was happening! "Where did you get it?"

"The King gave it to me," Keith answered, and to the gasps, he nodded. "I know, it's the last thing I was expecting. He said it held a gift for me, and a letter to my mother-in-law. I got the impression I was supposed to offer it to her, and not open it at court where I received it. For whatever reason. Hopefully a positive one." He sounded a little nervous.

"Oh, I'm sure," Ariane said comfortingly. "It's quite a fine box."

Lehndorff felt the inevitable flicker of envy that anyone would, but mostly a great deal of vicarious satisfaction. He longed for the King's attention, of course, but he was young and there was still time, and he had to admit the King hardly knew him. Keith, though, Keith had been a close personal friend to Crown Prince Friedrich, many years ago. So close that when the young prince tried to flee the country, he included Keith in the escape plan. Though Friedrich had been caught and spent a year in prison, Keith had made it out of Prussia. Then he spent the next ten years in exile, fleeing from country to country with a death sentence on his head. That kind of courage and loyalty should have been rewarded, in Lehndorff's opinion, but when it was finally safe to return, the new king seemed to have forgotten his old friend entirely.

Quiet and unassuming, Keith hadn't complained, but his hurt was obvious, and all right-thinking people were indignant on his behalf.

"High time," Lehndorff said, admiring the workmanship and trying to imagine what could be inside.

When the Baroness returned, escorted by the Keiths' servant, it was with a look of utter surprise at the box her son-in-law presented to her. She nearly dropped it, before she readjusted her grip. 

"It's heavy," Keith warned her, belatedly. He handed her the key.

They all gathered around, holding their breaths, as she opened the box. "Money!"

It was full to the brim with coins. 

"Money, from the King?" Ariane looked from the box to her husband and back. "Did you ask him-?"

Keith shook his head firmly. "I never ask him for anything any more."

Half hidden by the pile of coins, a white gleam of paper peeked through. The Baroness took it out. Sure enough, it was addressed to her and bore the royal seal. She broke the seal carefully and unfolded the letter.

With every word she read aloud, Lehndorff watched Keith's mouth open a little wider. The King was pleased with Keith's work as curator at the Academy of Sciences, and hoped the Baroness could spare her devoted son-in-law while he served as aide-de-camp for the autumn military maneuvers in Silesia. Friedrich had even added a few lines of verse he'd composed, always a sure sign of a personal touch from him.

"He wants you as his own ADC!" Ariane beamed as she squeezed her husband's arm. Then she looked at him more closely. "Peter, aren't you excited?"

"I will be," he said faintly, "once I recover from being stunned." 

He sounded so unsure that Lehndorff started to wonder if...no, surely not. Keith wasn't the type to hold a grudge, even after years of being overlooked. Right?

Not noticing, or affecting not to notice, the Baroness proudly smoothed out the piece of paper in her hands and began to reread it. "I'm telling all my friends about this letter," she announced. "Nice of him to find a way around your natural modesty."

"You, madam," Keith said to the Baroness, taking her hand away from the letter so he could kiss it, "are the dearest mother-in-law a man could hope for." He was so gracious that Lehndorff half convinced himself that the hesitation was only what Keith said it was, a momentary shock. "And you, my friend, your day will come. When you least expect it." Even in the flush of his windfall, he didn't forget Lehndorff's own dearly held hopes.

Truly, Lehndorff felt, such good fortune couldn't have fallen on a worthier man. With sincere pleasure, he told Keith, "This day was long overdue."

* * *

"He didn't tell you what changed?" Ariane asked once they were settled in the carriage, alone together on their way home. Keith hadn't wanted to rain on anyone's parade, or seem ungrateful in a way that would get back to the King, but Ariane knew him too well.

"Not a word. I don't mean to complain about what I've always wanted, but I wish he would talk to me, instead of handing down judgments on stone tablets from Mount Sinai. Why money and an ADC position now, after so many years of silence? I know he's made a point of never explaining himself since he became king, but I hate having to guess what he's thinking all the time."

Long ago, he'd returned to Prussia with high hopes for the future, only for Friedrich to toss his onetime lover a bone here and there without ever seeing him, leaving everyone to wonder why. Some, like loyal Ariane, said the King was ungrateful. Others concluded that Keith must have done something wrong. 

Keith himself went back and forth between the two. He'd put his life on the line as much as anyone else in 1730. Was it his fault he'd escaped and survived, when Katte had died as he'd lived, the perfect chevalier sans peur et sans reproche? Either it was, he told himself, or Friedrich thought it was.

Ariane's gentle touch was as understanding as her words. "I know you're disappointed about not having a personal relationship with him any more, darling, but there's nothing to guess at. The letter said you're doing a good job at the Academy, and you're being rewarded for it."

A nagging voice in Keith's head wanted to argue that there was a lot that needed to be guessed at, that Friedrich couldn't be more inscrutable if he tried. It wasn't the money per se: the King sometimes made gestures like these. It was the fact that nothing in their prior interactions had led Keith to believe that Friedrich respected him this much. He hadn't even wanted Keith in his army, initially, and civilians were second-class citizens in Prussia.

Keith would have liked to believe he'd proved himself by insisting on going to war anyway, but Friedrich had never seemed pleased about it before. The only person involved in the youthful escape attempt he ever seemed pleased with was Katte, whose family was heaping up rewards, while Keith watched from afar.

But these fears were not anything Keith ever spoke aloud. He stopped and breathed in slowly, buoyed up by Ariane's supportiveness.

"You're right, as always. I'm overthinking this. He's had three years to evaluate my curatorship, he needs someone with my skill set for the next few weeks, and so I'm finally getting to be at his side. At least for a little while."

* * *

His third day as aide-de-camp to the King, and Keith was finding that late nights went with the early mornings. Work began at three am and continued until His Indefatigable Majesty was satisfied.

If he were this overloaded at the Academy, Keith would have found a way to delegate more by now, but the King had made it clear that no further delegation was an option. Naturally, there was no comparison between the sensitive information the King dealt with as a matter of course, and a mere curatorship. It must be quite difficult for kings to find people they could trust, Keith reflected.

So he worked with coffee and without complaint.

"Prepare for dictation," Friedrich snapped, seconds after Keith returned from running a message. Every evening, he sat down to review the reports his subordinates had drawn up during the day, to make sure his orders were being followed. If they weren't, he lost no time in letting the offending party know.

"Yes, Sire." Keith sat down, whipped out a fresh sheet of paper, and dipped his quill in the inkstand. To his great relief through this nerve-wracking evening, his own work so far had passed muster.

He put equal effort into keeping his conduct acceptable. Quiet, efficient, the perfect Prussian automaton. Not once, even at close range, had he slipped into informality. He wanted the King to know that he had no intention of presuming on an old relationship, and that he would respect whatever boundaries the King set. But privately, he still couldn't take Ariane's good advice and stop his thoughts from whirling endlessly around.

If it had only been that the King saw him as just another subject, to be used where needed, Keith could have accepted that. He thought risking his life for love should mean something, but maybe ten years of exile, with no contact, was an unbridgeable gap. If so, he could move on. He had Ariane and the children now, and Friedrich had his valet-chamberlain-musician-first minister Michael Fredersdorf, widely assumed to be his lover.

But what Keith couldn't stomach was the sheer humiliation of being singled out for implicit punishment on his return to Prussia. Not only hadn't Friedrich wanted to see him personally, he'd even ordered Keith to stay in Berlin, while he marched off to war and became the greatest general of the age, and every other able-bodied young man went with him. In Berlin, everyone talked about how brave Katte had been, and looked at the newly returned Keith, a stranger now to most of them, with contempt.

That was why Keith couldn't let it go. But now he was ADC, apparently in favor again, and struggling to interpret yet another unanticipated turn of events.

Finally, Friedrich put down the last of the papers. In this stack. There were still untouched stacks. "Coffee, tea, or chocolate, Colonel?"

It took Keith a second to catch up to the whiplash from being treated as a writing machine. "Oh, thank you, Sire. Chocolate if we're done here, otherwise coffee." If Friedrich meant to go all night, Keith would stay with him. This was one overworked monarch, and if all Keith could do was lift some of the burden, he wanted to do that.

But Friedrich chuckled and sent a page for two cups of chocolate and some fruit. Then he replaced his quill in the stand, took off the spectacles he used for reading, and rubbed his eyes. Keith took it as permission to sit back in his chair and let his gaze wander, to rest his own eyes after the hours of straining at the King's handwriting and spelling.

They were in a large, though rather spartan, room, with a bed, a desk, a dressing table, and a smaller table holding a wash basin and towel. At the moment, until the page returned, it was just the two of them, Keith and Friedrich. Friedrich was tugging off his own cracked and faded boots, with a grumble about gout as he coaxed his toes out. This was not a king who stood on ceremony. He enforced his status as undisputed lord and master over all his subjects in very different ways.

When the page arrived with a tray and began to transfer the fruit, chocolate, and tableware on it to the desk one by one, Friedrich was in the middle of taking a pinch of snuff. He waved the three free fingers of his left hand, signaling something whose meaning wasn't obvious. The page froze, waiting for clarification, while Friedrich sniffed, twice. "Ahh, I needed that." He replaced the snuffbox in his pocket. "Just set the tray down and leave us. You can close the door and wait outside."

Hastily, Keith cleared enough space on the surface of the desk to avert catastrophe as this order was followed. Next time, he'd know to be ready.

When the door closed, Friedrich plunged his spoon into his cup of cherries, indicating that Keith should do the same. It seemed they were taking a light evening snack together.

Keith tried not to make too much of the apparent intimacy. Friedrich did this sometimes. Envoys made the long trip from other countries to meet with the Prussian king on international politics and left frustrated, without ever getting close to a private audience. But if the King decided he wanted to talk, you found yourself in an audience before you knew what had hit you, no matter who you were.

It didn't mean it would happen again, once his curiosity was satisfied. Friedrich had made it quite clear to Keith that they had nothing but a working relationship any more, and a distant one at that. 

"To your liking?" Friedrich inquired, nodding toward the fruit.

"Very much so, thank you. One advantage of being at court is the access to fresh fruit and vegetables year round."

Friedrich beamed. He poured a lot of money and energy into maintaining his gardens, orchards, and greenhouses. In turn, he liked to bestow the yield on the people around him and to have it appreciated. Keith rather thought it was an acquired taste, but sharing it with him was meant as a kindness, and that was what mattered.

Ignoring the napkin in front of him, the King wiped some juice from his chin with the back of his ink-stained cuff. "Almost as good as nabbing Voltaire, eh?" He was a completely different person from the one who'd been relentlessly driving himself and everyone around him all day.

"He'll be Your Majesty's most rare and exotic fruit."

Friedrich laughed. That was encouraging, because, on the one hand, he liked to be made to laugh, and on the other, he wouldn't fake it. "I'm rather hoping he'll be the gardener and I'll be the fruit, or at least my poetic output will be. But as for being able to afford him, yes, he's costing me a pretty penny. But for someone like Voltaire, you take what you can get. Don't tell him I said that."

Keith returned the smile conspiratorially. "Silence to the grave."

It had been some small comfort, long ago, for Keith to finally come to the conclusion that while being ignored might mean royal displeasure, his low salary didn't necessarily. Virtually everyone grumbled about the Prussian King's frugality, when they weren't using less kind names for it. By that same token, Keith knew the recent, unexpected monetary gift did mean something.

A nearly equally well-known fact about Friedrich was that once he got started on the subject of Voltaire, he tended to develop it at some length. Tonight was no exception. "Now, I should warn you, he's a mischief-maker, a real monkey, but as curator, you should be personally spared that aspect. The other academics, though...I'm telling you, if he'd had an army at his disposal, Voltaire's conflicts with Rousseau and his other rivals would have made the Silesian wars look like skirmishes."

Keith chuckled, even through the slight sting. He would have preferred to be an academic himself, but his education was too spotty, and he didn't have the natural genius to compensate. So he appreciated the administrative position and honorary membership at the Academy. It was almost as if Friedrich had remembered young Peter's hunger to learn.

"The thought of Voltaire as a general is terrifying," he agreed. "Have you considered putting one of his rivals into each garrison you want to conquer, and letting him have at them? If you don't trust him with an army-"

"And I don't," Friedrich interjected, grinning.

"Then his pen should be mighty enough. He could scare them into surrendering to you by threatening to feature them in his pamphlets."

"That's one tactic the Austrians will never see coming."

Again, Friedrich's amusement seemed genuine, to Keith's relief. This whole conversation was like being sixteen, uncertain what to make of the Crown Prince's interest in him, watching his every word, always trying to say the right thing. Then something had clicked, he'd stopped having to give it so much thought, and suddenly he'd had a friend where he least expected one. Now he was trying to get to know Friedrich all over again, or what sometimes felt like a different man by the same name.

Voltaire was always a safe topic.

"More seriously, ever since I heard we might get him, I've been doing my homework."

Friedrich's face lit up. "Isn't he brilliance itself? I'm going to get my hands on a complete copy of the _Pucelle_ if it kills me. What did you think of the _Henriade_?"

Eagerly, they traded opinions on Voltaire's work. Friedrich's intensity on this subject was easily a match for his blazing fire earlier today, except that now he was having fun. Keith even dared to disagree on specifics a couple of times. Though Friedrich didn't budge one whit, it seemed he still preferred a reasoned argument to mindless agreement. That was how they'd managed to put together a real friendship, once upon a time. Keith just wasn't sure how much had changed in the transformation to autocratic king.

Thankfully, it appeared intellectual debate was still on the table.

The enthusiastic literary session continued, until the King glanced at his watch. Immediately, Keith prepared to rise. Friedrich smiled wryly at him. "This won't be the first night I've counted sleep well lost to that man, but I've worked you hard enough today, and I'm not paying you to be my reader. Just let this be a lesson to you not to bring up Voltaire to me after nine."

If he'd been more sure of the ground he stood on, Keith would have said, _I missed this. I missed late nights talking about literature with you, even whispering because your father would beat us if he found out._

Instead, he merely bowed and said, truthfully, that his time and his sleep were the King's. "Your Majesty, before I take my leave, I just wanted to thank you, once again, for that box. My wife and I are deeply grateful, as is the Baroness."

"Don't mention it. And do give them my regards. How are your children faring? You have children, if memory serves."

"Yes, Sire, two boys, and they're doing very well." Keith glowed, as he always did when he talked about them. "It's too soon to tell with Karl, but young Friedrich's quite studious. I'm trying to give them a better education than I got, hopefully even university. Your generous gift will help with that."

"A generous gift for a worthy cause, then." Friedrich would never have gone to university in any case, but he and royal page Keith had bonded over smuggled books, feeding their starved minds as best they could together. "Any musical talent?"

"He's studying the violin, and his brother's already starting to produce recognizable music on the harpsichord."

"Try to start the next one on the flute." Friedrich, passionate flutist, winked.

"I started them all on the flute, Sire. I told them it was the instrument of kings!" 

"You didn't." Friedrich looked at him closely. "You did! No one took to it?"

"Alas. No more than I did. I suppose that's why we're not kings." He put enough humor in his voice to avert any suspicion of flattery.

"Well, all my brothers and sisters favor something different. It's important to be able to get an ensemble going. Tell them that." 

"I will, sir." He took a deep breath in, but stopped, indecisive. Should he ask? Friedrich was in a good mood, and seemed to want things casual. There might never be another chance. No, it wasn't worth pushing. He should just assume the best.

So they chatted inconsequentially a bit longer, until yawning overtook them. Friedrich turned around and started to whistle, then caught himself. "You see how it is? You get used to having your dogs around, then they train you into thinking they're just behind you when you don't see them."

Glancing at the empty floor, Keith felt something that had been nagging at him fall into place. "Oh, that's what was missing. You didn't bring them?"

"Biche hasn't been well for longer than I'd like. And I thought, when I'm sick, I want the people I love around me. Since I had to leave her in Potsdam, I decided at least not to take her canine friends away while I was gone."

"That was considerate of you."

"I honestly don't know how much time she has left. But then, sometimes I think I pour all my energy into worrying about my dogs to distract me from the people I'm afraid of losing. Count Rothenburg is fading fast, and I fear for Fredersdorf-" He choked on that name, and Keith bit his lip. He wanted to offer comfort, but he didn't know what comfort would be welcome.

"You're not allowed to die," Friedrich said more firmly. "Royal command. I need people I can count on."

Keith smiled, touched. "I'll do my best, Sire."

"See that you do. Now get some sleep, I'll need you early again tomorrow."

For the third night in a row, Keith slept instantly and dreamlessly, contrary to his usual custom, and yet again it was too soon that he was being woken. He struggled out of bed and to the King's side, determined not to let him down.

When he arrived, Friedrich proved that even while he was sleeping, he was working. "I've decided," he announced abruptly. "I don't need to worry about you making a power grab, I gather?"

"Never, Your Majesty," Keith said right away, rapidly blinking his eyes to try to clear them. Friedrich's aides didn't have the luxury of being half asleep. Had he said something wrong yesterday? Or simply let himself be too informal?

"I thought not. Well, you have children who should have the opportunities that were denied to you and me, and I'd like to see about getting you some more administrative responsibilities and corresponding pay, with the possibility of bonuses. You won't mind the extra work, I trust."

Oh. Oh. That was where he was going with that opening remark. Keith was now fully awake. "No, Sire! Not at all. I wanted to go to university more than anything, and I will do whatever it takes to send my sons there. And I give you my word that the money you gave me last week, as well as anything you may see fit to give me again, will only go toward their education, not toward frivolities."

"No, from what my agents have told me, you've been living quite frugally. You haven't run up any debts, which is one reason I'd be willing to trust you with something important."

Keith hadn't realized the King had looked so closely into his financial affairs, but it was entirely like him. Keith wouldn't have been surprised to learn that had been a sine qua non for the gift.

"How about Charlottenburg Palace to administer, then? It's not a regular royal residence, but I need someone to keep it in better order than I saw during my last inspection, for when it is needed."

"Your Majesty--yes!" He tried to control his excitement. "I mean, it would be an honor."

"It's good that you like work," Friedrich said approvingly. "People who like work are useful to humanity."

"I want to be useful to _you_ ," Keith said with feeling.

Friedrich laughed. "Sit down, then."

* * *

The trip back from Silesia was long and wet, and Keith didn't arrive in Berlin until well after dark, the day after he'd written to Ariane to expect him. He shook his head at her concerns and explained, with a reassuring smile, "No, it was only that the closer we got, the muddier the roads were, until I wondered if there were any cobblestones left. Nothing to worry about."

"Still, I don't remember the last time I saw you this tired. Let's get you fed before we tell the boys you're home."

It was a mark of how exhausted he was that he agreed to this arrangement. Ariane sat beside him and gave him the news while he ate. He was too tired to taste what was on his plate, but he listened with pleasure. Nothing worse than a bump on the head from too enthusiastic climbing had happened to either of the boys, and they'd been terribly impatient all yesterday and today to see him. There was the news from court that he always relied on her for, and a description of a concert that she'd enjoyed.

"I kept on top of your mail," she assured him. "The most interesting was an invitation from President Maupertuis to a select gathering, where he and some of the other mathematicians are going to speak on their latest findings." Her eyes were bright and hopeful. "I couldn't quite tell if it was a masculine-only affair."

Keith swallowed hastily, so he could promise her, with a smile and a wink, "I'll see what I can do about encouraging mixed company." Neither he nor Ariane was a great mind, but they both loved listening to people who knew more than they did. "If not, I'll tell you everything I understood."

When he was done eating, Keith sipped at a cup of tea, trying to summon the energy that two young boys who hadn't seen their father in weeks deserved from him. He felt Ariane watching him closely, until finally she spoke.

"I know you're very private about your relationship with the King, and I'm not asking for details, but...it went well? It went badly?"

"Oh, it went well," he told her. "In fact, I have good news, which I'll tell you once I've seen Friedrich and Karl. It's just…" Keith tried to think what he could tell her that was honest and meaningful without betraying his sense of privacy. "You know the story of Semele?"

"You mean the mother of Dionysus? What I remember is that Zeus took human form to sleep with her, but she insisted on seeing him as he really was. So he turned into a lightning bolt, and because she was only a mortal, she was incinerated?" Ariane's face became more and more dumbfounded as she realized what she was saying. 

"I haven't been incinerated," he promised. "But I feel like I got a taste of lightning in its pure form. You can tell Count Lehndorff, the next time you see him, that a position with the King, a permanent one, would mean not having time to spend with a wife, any children they might have, or his favorite princes. I'll go to Silesia again if the King asks me next year, but more than that--I don't think I could keep up with him. I don't know how Fredersdorf does it, even without a family." It wasn't only the workload, though he couldn't tell Ariane how much raw emotion factored into how overwhelmed he felt in Friedrich's presence. Perhaps the King's moods would be easier to manage if Keith cared less, but he'd only found himself caring more as the stay in Silesia went on.

"You're touching your lips." Ariane stopped herself. "I won't ask."

Keith blinked. He was not only gazing at nothing, a thousand miles away, but he was pressing his fingertips to his mouth, as if to seal in a tender secret.

Ariane had been patience itself, all these years. A mistress would have been a different story, but they'd reached an understanding about his occasional affairs with men. So if he couldn't keep his emotions under the kind of control he should, he owed her curiosity something. He made himself shake his head. "No, we didn't. He lives on Mount Olympus now, and I'm content with my memories." He stood up, uncomfortable. "Let me spend some time with the boys before their bedtime."

Homecoming was everything he'd dreamed of, but well after everyone had retired to bed, an exhausted Keith, who should have been asleep long ago, paced the drafty library, throwing shadows in the candlelight. He'd made the right choice, he knew it, coming home and deciding not to pursue a more permanent position close to the King. That taste of lightning had convinced him he would do better with what he had.

But one conversation in Silesia had stirred up so many memories that Keith would be reliving it for a long time.

He'd finally worked up the courage, somehow, on the last of their infrequent evenings sharing fruit and chocolate before bed, to ask the question that had been haunting him.

_"I was only wondering, Your Majesty...Does this, this position mean-" Keith felt stupid asking, but he needed to hear it. "That I've redeemed myself in your eyes?"_

_The King blinked. "Redeemed? I wasn't aware you had done anything that called for redemption. All I meant by this position was that I don't have many people I can trust with important work, and you've been reliable. I hope this isn't a way of complaining about your salary again."_

_"Sire, no!" He was right. He shouldn't have said anything. But Friedrich was looking at him with those piercing blue eyes that never relented, and Keith knew he was in too deep to get out now. He swallowed. "I only meant that when I returned from exile, when Your Majesty pardoned me, I--well, you gave me a civilian post when everyone else was going off to war." The shame choked his throat even now. "I hope I've since proved my courage with my service in the Silesian wars."_

_"I cannot credit my own ears. You think I gave you a position at court with the Queen Mother because I doubted your courage? When you'd risked your life for me and your regiment hung you in effigy when you were only nineteen? How could you think such a thing?"_

_Keith's mind was swimming with such contradictory feelings that it was hard to think. "Everyone did! The whole court, everyone left in Berlin! Everyone was talking. I couldn't hold my head up in public until I got a commission."_

_"The public has no right to judge my choices," the King snapped. "If I'd thought you were shirking, I would have taught you your duty in the front lines."_

_"Then why?" Keith pleaded. "Why leave me behind in wartime?"_

_On Friedrich's face were pain and anger. "It's not obvious? Because I meant to see you again before I let you die in battle. I expect everyone to serve, even myself, but I made exceptions for you and Fredersdorf. Then you threw yours back in my face."_

_"Oh." Keith tried to take that all in. Fredersdorf the beloved? Of course, he'd been pulled out of his regiment to perform administrative tasks for the King, mostly in Berlin. Understanding now that Friedrich had been just as hurt as he had, Keith tried to put his own motives into words. "When I finally broke down and asked to join the army, I hadn't heard from you in over a year, and I hadn't seen you in more than ten. I thought I was on my own. I didn't realize you'd think I was rejecting you."_

_"You complained about the prestigious court position I gave you, complained about your pay, demanded a commission during wartime so you could get yourself killed, and got engaged in the same month. What was I supposed to think? That you were waiting for me to come back?"_

_Seeing the tears now in Friedrich's eyes, and remembering how the young Crown Prince had been utterly alone, with his closest friends exiled or dead, Keith found his courage._

_He reached out and took Friedrich's hand. "You were supposed to think that I wanted to be near you."_

_Their fingers tightened around each other, while they looked back on years of unnecessary hurt._

_"You could have brought me on campaign with you," he ventured to continue, trying to make Friedrich understand. "I didn't want power, and I could have done without money. I would have taken on the most onerous tasks, risked my life, whatever you needed, just to know that what I did mattered. But since you didn't, I thought you despised me for fleeing, and I had to redeem myself. In my own eyes, if I couldn't in yours."_

_If Katte was haunting Friedrich's nightmares, as surely he was, he was hardly sparing Keith's. Katte'd had the opportunity to make a run for it when he learned his arrest was imminent, and instead he'd stood his ground. Then he lost his head in front of Friedrich's very eyes, with unflinching bravery and love._

_Friedrich stiffened. "You believed I wanted you both dead? Is that what you think of me? It wasn't bad enough that Katte had to die for getting dragged into my thoughtless escapade, I was after your blood too?"_

_"No." Keith's voice wavered, but he forced his deepest secret up past the shame and fear. "I believed you thought the wrong one had died. The dead lion and the live dog."_

_Friedrich just stared at him in disbelief. In his face, the old memories were coalescing into a ghost. Keith shivered as he watched the scene play out before their eyes. He'd imagined it often enough, but with Friedrich's hand still clutching his, it felt as if he were taking Keith back in time with him. To a cold, grey morning, to the condemned man walking past the Prince's prison window, the last, desperate kisses they blew each other, and finally, the merciful faint that spared Friedrich the sight of Katte's head falling._

_Briefly, Keith feared he was going to relive the Prince's faint, but then the room settled in around him again, and Friedrich's fingers were like iron. "You thought I wanted that, for you."_

_There were no words. When they kissed, Keith wasn't sure who was comforting whom, only that he didn't want to stop. Something small and hurt, that had been buried inside him so long he'd forgotten it was there, was being coaxed out from its hiding place into the sunlight._

_He felt Friedrich's lips murmuring something against his, but he couldn't hear. His whole world reduced itself to this place, this time. An unforeseen moment of grace that he'd always remember._

_"I'm sorry," Keith said, when he could think again and he realized Friedrich had spoken. "I'm listening. You were saying?"_

_He sighed. "That I left you behind because I wanted to know one of us had made it. I wanted you to be free to pursue that intellectual life we'd always wanted and that my father opposed. You were supposed to live for all three of us."_

_Keith had only his expression and an involuntary gasp to show how very moved and dismayed he was, but something in Friedrich's face said he understood, even without words. "If I'd known...I never meant to throw anything back in your face."_

_Friedrich nodded, accepting that. "I believe you. And if we should, God forbid, find ourselves at war again?" He looked at Keith, prompting him._

_Keith loved him then, that he wouldn't make it an order, that Friedrich knew what it was to need to prove yourself above all. He wanted to repay that act of love. His reputation as a soldier was hard-earned, but then, hadn't he just said he would make the greatest sacrifices without complaint, just to know he mattered? "I'll stay at the Academy, Sire. No matter who talks."_

_The relief in Friedrich's smile might be the only reward he would ever see, but it was enough._

In many ways, that evening had brought Keith peace. Finally, he could stop lying awake, wondering what he'd done wrong, trying to tell himself that at least Ariane was glad he'd survived that terrible year of 1730. Now he'd taken the risk of clearing the air, and it had paid off in ways he'd never even imagined. But doing so had also brought him within touching distance of something he'd longed for since his heart was old enough to feel, and that was harder.

Knowing the path to a closer relationship with Friedrich lay open to him, and choosing not to take it, though he would have ten years ago if he had been able to find the way then...it was right, but not easy. But he'd told Ariane the truth: he couldn't have both Friedrich and a family life.

And what if he did throw away the life he'd built, in order to spend the rest of his days like a dog trotting faithfully at the King's heels? He'd have to become yet another nobleman who came home to strangers, only for the purpose of carrying on the family line, but suppose he did? He thought he had a good chance of earning more time with Friedrich, maybe even finding an opportunity here and there to build on the intimacy of that last night in Silesia. They'd done it before.

But so much of that night had come from a place of nostalgia that Keith knew he'd never be Friedrich's real love. That position was taken, first by Katte and then by Fredersdorf. What was left between them was affection. Was that worth the sacrifices he'd have to make, the stress of constantly trying to keep pace with Friedrich's mercurial moods, the risk of losing it all if he made a misstep?

No, all reason said. And yet…

He was pressing his fingers to his lips again.

In the end, Keith opened the door to the room where his sons were sleeping. He stood in the doorway, holding the candle in one hand, listening to them breathe. He remembered Friedrich's promise, and he thought of everything he was going to be able to give them. That was when he finally started to dwell on the future instead of the past. Closing the door quietly, he turned back toward his own bed, knowing he was truly home now.

* * *

"Fredersdorf!" Friedrich was shouting, even though Fredersdorf was right behind him. Now that the King was back from Silesia, he was acting as if everything that he didn't do while he was gone needed to be done at once. "Where's my knife? I have work to do. And have someone build up the fire, it's freezing in here." Without waiting, he broke the seal on the letter with his bare hands, partly ripping the paper in the process.

Fredersdorf picked up the knife from the floor, where it had landed unseen on the dog cushion next to a sleeping Biche, and stoked the fire himself. It was better than bringing in a hapless servant to deal with the King in this mood. Besides, the occasional reminder of his days as lackey amused Fredersdorf.

"I can't believe it. We're haggling now." He scribbled something in the margin and tossed the letter at Fredersdorf. "You're the treasurer. You convince them we can't possibly pay more than what I've annotated. I'll copy it out in my own hand."

Fredersdorf skimmed the letter, which turned out to concern the marriage negotiations for Friedrich's brother Prince Heinrich. He kept his emotions out of his face, but he couldn't help remembering another prince who'd hated the idea of marriage as much as Heinrich did now.

 _"Hasn't my father seen enough unhappy marriages?"_ had been one of the first things a young Friedrich, weeping with rage, said to Fredersdorf after they met. _"He wants to be responsible for another one?"_

Fredersdorf reminded himself that Friedrich's marriage had been tolerable in the end, unlike his parents'. Not that he ever became reconciled to his wife, but they lived entirely separate lives, and he had the benefits of a queen, with none of the downsides. With luck, Prince Heinrich could do the same, and, after all, no one expected love in a royal marriage.

"I'll have the response ready today," he promised.

While they were talking, a servant came to the door with another message. Unfortunately, Friedrich grabbed it before Fredersdorf had the chance to add it to his pile of papers to sort through and prioritize for the King. Friedrich read it, got a mulish look on his face, and pushed it away. "The answers are no and stop bothering me with trivialities. I'll write it out more politely when I've worked through important tasks."

Fredersdorf by no means had a strong command of French, but by now he could make sense of a short letter. Enough to see from a glance that this was from the Queen, and she was asking if her husband planned to attend the birthday festival for his sister that she would be hosting. Furthermore, she had complaints of some sort about her chamberlain, and could the King perhaps give him a reprimand he would listen to?

She never had a shot at the first request, but the second one Fredersdorf might have been able to get her, given the chance to broach the question in his own way. People grumbled about his role as gatekeeper for petitions to the King, but what they didn't realize was how often the delays they resented worked in their favor. Timing was an art that few appreciated.

"She can't make me attend," Friedrich insisted, scowling. "My sister will get a party from me here, and it should be enough for my grouch of a wife that I'll put up with her on her own birthday."

"No one would dare to make Your Majesty do anything," Fredersdorf murmured, hoping one day Friedrich would believe it. He could tell that, no matter how long Friedrich Wilhelm had been dead, Friedrich still felt his father's invisible hand on the bridle from time to time, and that whenever he did, he started bucking with all his might.

"And Heinrich," Friedrich continued, still acrimonious, "he should be grateful he's getting to choose his wife. I have it on good authority all three sisters are intelligent, lively, and talented, compared to that pious bore who was foisted on me, and he'll get to meet them and take his pick before he finds himself in front of an altar."

Fredersdorf prayed that would help. For both brothers' sakes, because this ongoing conflict wasn't doing Friedrich any good either.

So what he said, in the interests of bringing it to an end sooner rather than later, was, "I'm sure His Highness will also be grateful that his brother Prince Wilhelm has taken care of the succession, so there's no pressing need for him to try to get a child on her."

Surprise flashed in Friedrich's eyes, and Fredersdorf hoped he'd gotten the timing right. He didn't always, and this decision was one that could go either way. He happened to be one of the only people to know for sure that young Friedrich had been compelled by his father's insistence on an heir to put a nominal effort into going to bed with his wife, before declaring the marriage childless, and that he'd never really gotten over it.

Indecision played on Friedrich's face, where Fredersdorf could almost read the words _Well, if I had to_ forming. But he really did want to be able to tell himself his brother had reason to be grateful for his gentler treatment, however odd that might sound in the unequal battle that was playing out between them.

"Of course not," Friedrich finally decided. "If he only acknowledges his duty to his king and his country, I'm prepared to be generous. Look at Rheinsberg Palace."

"He's certainly been fortunate in many ways," Fredersdorf said, relieved. It was an inarguably true statement, if one looked at Crown Prince Friedrich's life, and yet he didn't think Heinrich would be in a hurry to agree with it. Well, Fredersdorf had done the best he could as peacemaker. As usual, his work would go unnoticed, but then, he preferred operating in the shadows.

Then the conversation turned to this year's opera season. Friedrich planned each season out in great detail, and Fredersdorf had responsibility for implementing his plans.

All the while they talked, Fredersdorf watched his king closely. Friedrich was often in a bad mood when the weather forced him to leave his beloved summer palace Sanssouci, but Fredersdorf thought something else was going on today. There were little things, the sheen of sweat on Friedrich's face despite the cold, the tightness of his jaw, the occasional wince, clamped down on fiercely. When he thought the time was right, Fredersdorf asked, "Gout, hemorrhoids, or colic?"

"What?" Friedrich looked up at Fredersdorf. "Gout, but how did you know?"

"I can tell when you're ill or in pain. Should I send for a doctor?"

Friedrich muttered something uncomplimentary. "I can treat myself. Bring my box of powders, if you insist."

He let Fredersdorf take his boots off and prop his feet up on a footstool, while he poured a packet of powder into his glass and stirred it. "You have gentler hands than anyone else. I'd do it myself, if my elbow weren't flaring up too."

Stubborn man. Fredersdorf repressed a small smile. "Would you like me to play for you, while you wait for your medicine to take effect?"

As he'd hoped, Friedrich looked touched by the informal 'du'. Fredersdorf was normally as careful as could be, in writing or in public, or even where they might be overheard, not to be anything but completely deferential, but every so often, he needed to say, _I'm here because you're Friedrich, not because you're king._ Whenever he saw Friedrich unhappy, Fredersdorf remembered how miserable he'd been when they met, and his heart ached in sympathy. And when he smiled, Fredersdorf's face mirrored the smile without even meaning to.

"If you're up for it?" Friedrich studied him with a concerned look.

"I'm having a better day today," Fredersdorf assured him, turning to open up the drawer with the scores he wanted. His flute was still assembled from their earlier session. He wondered what it had cost Friedrich to play through the pain of his inflamed elbow, and if he was paying the price now.

"You've been taking your medicine and following your prescribed diet?" Friedrich pressed.

"Of course, Sire," Fredersdorf answered, not specifying which medicine and which diet. He and the King very often had differences of opinion on doctors and medical treatments, but Fredersdorf found ways of calming Friedrich, avoiding a scolding, and still following his own best judgment. "Not to worry."

Appeased, Friedrich removed his spectacles and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly and deliberately, waiting out the pain. Fredersdorf began a concerto, a light-hearted one that Friedrich liked to hear when he felt like some cheering up. But Friedrich let him get only a few bars into it before interrupting,

"By the way, I'm going to need a stronger pair of lenses. I can't see a damn thing with or without these."

Fredersdorf took his flute away from his mouth. "I'll put in the order, with the usual discretion." A king who'd built his reputation on his martial prowess could hardly appear in public advertising weak eyes, and even in private, Friedrich had to downplay how little he could see. Fredersdorf's job was to keep the order from coming to anyone's attention.

Friedrich grumbled a bit more, then subsided. When Fredersdorf was sure nothing more was forthcoming, he resumed playing. He'd made it nearly through the first piece when Friedrich remembered,

"I promised Lieutenant Colonel Keith I'd transfer Charlottenburg to his care."

"I'll see to it," Fredersdorf said, before Friedrich could go back to his desk and do it himself. He was one of the few people Friedrich would delegate to, and Fredersdorf had the feeling that the only reason Keith was getting Charlottenburg was because there weren't enough hours in the day for Friedrich to administer it himself. Instead, he would content himself with going over the reports with a fine-toothed comb.

Friedrich hesitated. "I don't want to keep him waiting forever." There was a sardonic twist to his mouth. Fredersdorf wasn't sure what that meant, but it must have been something that came up while they were in Silesia together and Fredersdorf was holding down the fort in Berlin.

"I'll expedite it, Sire." He paused, trying to distract Friedrich from work. "I take it that went well?" When Friedrich looked at him questioningly, Fredersdorf elaborated, "Bringing the colonel along as your ADC?"

"Oh. Yes, he gave me no problems." It sounded dismissive, but Fredersdorf knew how rare that lack of criticism was from him. "I might invite him again. It's just that I'd rather have you. I always have to choose between having you at my side and having you be my eyes and ears and hands when I'm not around. There are so few people I can trust without supervision that I have to take the latter and be grateful, but can't you learn to be in two places at once?" The twinkle in his eye showed that the music or the medicine was helping, at least a little.

Fredersdorf smiled back. "I'll do my best. I'll also learn to talk while playing the flute."

That caught Friedrich off guard. He laughed. "All right, go on, go on."

But after the third interruption, Fredersdorf pondered what to do, while he let his fingers and mouth play without his full attention. Sending for Voltaire was always a gamble. There was no one who could put Friedrich in a better mood, or a worse one. Probably best not to risk it today, with Friedrich's gout and Voltaire's recent shady dealings.

Then a bark from the other side of the door, where some of the King's Italian greyhounds were running madly up and down the corridor, gave Fredersdorf an idea.

He waited until the fourth interruption, playing on in vain hopes there wouldn't be one, and then, when he'd finished responding to the latest query, began, "I was wondering…" When he didn't hear any objections, Fredersdorf continued, "I know Biche has been lethargic lately. Of course the staff and her doctors are taking the best possible care of her, but do you think she might have more appetite if I sent for some treats and you were to feed them to her?"

Friedrich's eyes opened. "I fed her off my plate earlier, but it's not a bad idea, to try to get her to eat a few snacks a day, instead of one or two meals. Yes, see to it."

With Biche on his lap and a plate of her favorite tidbits next to him, Friedrich became utterly focused on what he was doing. Even the lines of pain in his face receded as she slowly licked a morsel of carrot off his fingers. "That's a good girl. Have another one. They're tasty, aren't they? Yes, almost as tasty as my hand."

Standing beside them, Fredersdorf watched with poorly concealed satisfaction. Friedrich caught the expression on his chamberlain's face when he looked up from Biche to request more peas, and he stuck out his tongue. "You think you're such a good doctor."

"I don't hear any complaints about the medicine." Pleased with Friedrich's playfulness, Fredersdorf bent down to kiss him. They did little more these days than that, but they'd always valued intimacy more than sex.

"Biche would like to hear another sonata, if you please." Gingerly, Friedrich flexed his arm, obviously hoping to be able to play himself, but he winced and replaced his arm beside the sleepy greyhound. Then he leaned back in his armchair and closed his eyes again, with contentment this time.

"Biche's wish is my command."


	2. 1752

Prince Heinrich's wedding was a grand affair, exactly the sort of large gathering that had never been Keith's métier. It was nothing personal against the Prince, but he'd rather be at home with a book. Ariane should have been here. Not that she was ever the life of the party, but she'd been looking forward to it, and she would have found ways to make Keith glad to be here. Instead, she was home sick, and Keith was representing them alone at the Prince's wedding. At the best of times, occasions like this found him drifting from one knot of people to another, listening on the fringes, smiling politely, growing bored, and drifting off again, unnoticed, while avoiding the dancers altogether.

Tonight...well, fortunately, he hadn't been responsible for planning the wedding itself, and it was out of his hands once the feast started, but ensuring the palace and grounds were fit to host a royal wedding had kept him running right up until the last minute. Then tomorrow, cleanup responsibilities would fall squarely onto his shoulders. Meanwhile, he was free to fade into the background with a well-earned glass of wine and hope to be ignored, while he waited until he could leave without being rude.

After a while, he spotted Count Lehndorff in a corner, holding his own glass and looking glum, even on the verge of tears. Maybe he could go cheer him up. 

"What's wrong, my friend?"

Lehndorff just sighed. But he took a step to the side to allow Keith room to stand next to him in the corner, where they could watch the festivities together. "Does he look happy to you?" Lehndorff nodded in the direction of Prince Heinrich, who was standing next to his new wife but ignoring her and talking pointedly to one of his friends.

Now this was a delicate topic. Keith wasn't quite sure what answer Lehndorff was looking for. Would someone who carried a torch for the Prince want to think he was happy at his wedding or not? Especially when the Prince only saw him as a friend and occasional bed partner. "His Highness? He looks like he's making the best of it," Keith answered diplomatically, hedging his bets. "Royals don't always get to marry for love."

"Who does?" Lehndorff's bitter retort took Keith by surprise, until, belatedly, he remembered something Ariane had told him last year. The woman Lehndorff loved had gotten sucked, under parental pressure, into a mercenary marriage. "I could have been happily married, but I wasn't allowed. He'll never be happy married, but I have to see him in pain, putting a good face on it or not. It makes me want to weep." He sighed. "Maybe making the best of it is all we can do." He sounded more resigned than bitter now. "None of us are destined for happiness: not the Prince, not me, and not Frau von Katte."

That name made Keith jump involuntarily. "I beg your pardon?"

Lehndorff looked at him, surprised and a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew? She's my cousin, whom I was meant to marry, until the King decided he wanted the Katte family to catch an heiress, and he picked her. She had agreed to my proposal, but she didn't stand much of a chance after the King got involved. Only the Kattes get to be happy."

Well. That was what Keith got for keeping to himself and always having his nose in a book. Without Ariane, he'd barely know if Austria went to war with France. And he could easily imagine that she would have, out of kindness, spared her husband the little detail of just whom Lehndorff's flame had married.

Flustered, Keith reached out to a passing footman and accepted another glass of wine. He sipped at it, while he tried to get his emotions under control. So the King was still rewarding the Katte family.

Keith told himself to stop thinking nonsense. He wouldn't trade Ariane for all the heiresses in the world. And as for Friedrich's gratitude, he had that too. 

Once, he'd mentioned casually that the best part of life here at Charlottenburg was being in the countryside, where he could peacefully enjoy nature as he carried out his duties. The next thing he knew, he had charge of the Tiergarten as well. In some ways, it was an even more impressive responsibility than the palace, because it was in the heart of Berlin and a very popular destination. And now it was his sanctuary when he had to be in the city, and Friedrich had given it to him. Was that not a sign of love?

Then his Berlin residence, the former royal hunting lodge gifted to him by Friedrich, who didn't care for hunting. Keith didn't own it, but he and his family were allowed to stay there, rent-free, for as long as he lived. Meanwhile, as his savings piled up, his sons lived the kind of life he'd only dreamed of when he was their age.

His inner contentment restored, Keith set down his glass and turned his full attention to his friend. 

With the perspective of age, he knew what he'd needed, all those years ago, was not someone to tell him to wait forever on royal favor. What he needed was someone to tell him everything would be all right without it. So now he'd do the best he could for Lehndorff, whom he could see as a slightly younger version of himself: longing for his passion to be returned, and wanting a loving marriage at the same time.

"I'm sorry. I'd heard that she married, only not who she was married to. If she's unhappy, then my heart grieves for her as well as you. But sometimes, being a royal, or being connected too closely to a royal, doesn't make for a satisfying domestic life. Look at your cousin's marriage, His Highness's marriage, or even His Majesty's marriage, for that matter.

"Not you. You're going to marry well someday. Hold out for that, even if you love someone else, even if His Highness never sees you as anything more than a friend. And when I say to marry 'well,' I mean not for wealth, and not for a sudden passion. Marry someone who can hold your affections through the long haul.

"You know my life wasn't always the easiest-" Keith paused, prompting, and Lehndorff nodded. He'd heard the stories of Keith's flight from Prussia and his life in exile, always looking over his shoulder, trying to stay out of the long reach of King Friedrich Wilhelm. "But I can tell you that Providence has seemed determined to make up for my sufferings, with my family, my friends, and my work at the Academy."

"Thank you," Lehndorff said. He did look comforted, as Keith had hoped. "That's encouraging. I hope you're right."

"Keep my example in mind, and someday I will be. I may not have everything I dreamed of when I was young, but if I'm honest with myself, I'm probably happier than if I did."

"You still love him." Lehndorff's eyes widened. "I didn't realize, I thought-"

Keith stopped. He hadn't meant to be so obvious, but there was no point in denying it. _I know, you thought I resented him. Well, I did. But I was never able to stop loving him, and I'm trying to forgive._

"I probably always will," was what he said. "But loving someone and throwing away your life chasing after what you can't have are two different things. He's kind to me, when he remembers I exist."

Lehndorff regarded him with pity. He was constantly with Heinrich, going for rides and helping him put on plays and everything else they could think of, even sharing his bed from time to time.

Keith tried to shrug nonchalantly. "His Majesty is busy. You know he keeps to a very regimented schedule." If Friedrich had taken anyone besides Fredersdorf and maybe Francesco Algarotti to bed in the last twenty years, Keith would be surprised. His impression was that Friedrich liked the idea of sex better than the act. As for non-sexual entertainments, practically the only unscheduled time he allowed himself, he spent with his dogs, and that was little enough. Prince Heinrich, at least, had a lustier nature than his brother, more inclined to casual encounters of both the sexual and sociable sort.

"Maybe I should count my blessings," Lehndorff admitted. "I just wish that when he did give his heart, he would choose a man who would love him the way he deserves, not one who betrays his trust and causes nothing but problems. At least you don't have to deal with favorites like that."

Keith was about to agree. Then a name popped into his mouth. "Voltaire." 

"Oh, Lord." Lehndorff's eyebrows flew up. Serving the Queen gave him a certain buffer from the escalating developments, but lately there wasn't anyone who hadn't heard of the scandals and controversies involving Voltaire. "You're right. How bad is it, at close range?"

"I know you want a promotion to the King's court, but I'm telling you, sometimes there's something to be said for Her Majesty's being calmer. I managed to stay away from Voltaire's financial swindles and lawsuits, but now his antics are spilling over to the Academy. My god, he's only been here two years. Now he and President Maupertuis are going hammer and tongs over who discovered what, and we had to vote-" Keith cut himself off with a groan. "I'm supposed to be cheering you up. Come on, we're at a wedding, it's a party, what would cheer you up?"

Lehndorff smiled warmly. "Talking to a good friend?"

Keith returned the smile. Standing here in a quiet corner and talking suited him just fine. "I can't think of a better way to spend an evening."

"Thank you for reminding me that His Highness is a good friend too. I needed to remember that, even if I never find the courage to tell him how I feel."

Thinking of his own royal flame, Keith decided that the glass could be half full for both him and Lehndorff. Lehndorff had the steady friendship and the occasional night that didn't mean anything. Keith had his memories of what had once been real love, and was still an echo of love. That one evening in Silesia, coupled with the entirely different light it had cast on the previous ten years, and the better understanding between him and Friedrich since then, would burn like a candle, small but unextinguished, in Keith's heart for as long as he lived.

Then a great tumult made it hard to hear anything. The crowd was pressing around the Prince and Princess, chanting and clapping. It was time to lead the royal couple to bed. The festivities would go on until morning, but first there would be a torch-lit procession to the bridal chamber, where tonight's bride would no doubt remain a virgin for life.

Seeing the indecisive look on Lehndorff's face, Keith thought he'd better spare him the self-torment of joining in. He put his hand on Lehndorff's arm, and led him away, almost shouting to be heard. "Come on. It's a warm night, and we can walk outside under the stars."

Lehndorff knew exactly what Keith was up to, but he looked grateful to be led. He probably figured it was better than drinking himself into a stupor of double misery, his own and the Prince's.

"Well, if you want to distract me," Lehndorff said, once they'd walked far enough to hear their own voices again, "this should do the trick: you mentioned Voltaire when I brought up Prince Heinrich's favorites. He and the King aren't really-" He looked agog and disbelieving at the same time, to Keith's great amusement.

Now, Keith would rather die than betray a confidence, Lehndorff surely knew that. But one, there were no confidences he was in possession of, and two, the drama written by and starring Voltaire and the great Friedrich was playing out on a Europe-wide stage. Keith had no compunctions about offering up his observations.

"Look, I'm the last person you want to ask about court gossip, but if you mean are they going to bed together, no, not as far as I've heard, and I doubt it. But is His Majesty behaving exactly as though they were, down to not being able to make up his mind in any given quarter of an hour whether he wants to erect an altar to Voltaire or strangle him, yes."

As much as he'd set out to offer Lehndorff comfort, Keith found this conversation was doing him good too. It was useful, whenever he started longing for what he couldn't have, to remember that the side of Friedrich that got into pamphlet wars with Voltaire existed, and likewise that dealing with it was not something Keith felt equal to.

While they talked, they wandered far enough away from the crowd to be out of the brightest glow of the illuminated gardens. Keith stopped when they could see a few stars, and he found them a comfortable spot to sit and talk.

"Come down to the Tiergarten sometime when I'm free," he suggested, after they'd settled down next to each other. "I'll show you my favorite spots. There are some little known beauties."

"I'd like that. I really would." Lehndorff let his hand rest on Keith's. "And I'm sorry I brought up the Kattes, earlier. I didn't realize that was a touchy subject. I should have, I know."

"No, it's not. Or it shouldn't be." He tried to be reasonable on this subject that was hardest to be reasonable on. "It's only that I spent a long time feeling like the afterthought, the one who didn't die heroically."

"You?" Lehndorff sounded genuinely puzzled. "No disrespect to the dead, but you lived. You said yourself you've had a good life, in the end. Surely he would envy _you_. Honestly, I always thought of you as the real hero of 1730."

"No." Keith couldn't believe his ears. "You're just saying that to be kind."

With gentle affection, Lehndorff swatted his arm. "I've always admired you, didn't you know that?"

Gradually, involuntarily, a helpless smile spread across Keith's face. If Katte's memory and Friedrich's neglect stung more than they should, Lehndorff's admiration was more of a balm to the soul than it should be. No, he hadn't known. "I've never done anything," he protested.

"What are you talking about? You know six languages. I've always loved to hear about your travels. You've seen the world _and_ you once spent three years locked in a room reading books to catch up on your education. Doing one of those things-" He shrugged. "Doing both of them? That takes dedication."

Keith had to join in his laughter, even as the words left him confused between embarrassment and pleasure.

"More to the point, you've always been warm-hearted, never started quarrels, always been ready with a kind word and a helping hand." His voice filled with enthusiasm of a kind Keith hadn't expected at all. "I've tried to model myself on you. Not everyone would have noticed I was feeling down and come over to keep me from being alone, or given me such good advice."

Surrendering to the pleasure, Keith decided not to inflict his discomfort on someone as sincere as Lehndorff. "Well...you've more than returned the favor. Can I interest you in more distractions tonight?" He covered Lehndorff's hand with his own and leaned closer, making his meaning clear. Too much time had passed since he'd been with a man. It might feel good, he thought, with Lehndorff.

With a contented hum, Lehndorff closed the gap and kissed him. When he pulled back, he said, "To distractions from princes and Kattes."

"I can drink to that," Keith agreed. "As long as we drink to happy marriages as well."

Lehndorff raised his glass. "To your wife, and my future wife."


	3. 1777

In years to come, Lehndorff had reason to be grateful for the way things worked out on Heinrich's wedding day. The advice, of course, and that night under the stars, filled with laughter and kindness and all the pleasure he and his friend could give each other. But the couple of times they slept together weren't the memories he cherished the most. Most of all, he was grateful that he'd taken Keith up on that offer of a tour of the Tiergarten not long after, while there was still time. He hadn't known, then, how soon Keith would be taken away by a stroke, in his prime and in seemingly good health.

Now he reread the grave marker he knew by heart with damp eyes. Lieutenant Colonel Peter von Keith. 1711 to--

The date on the right was obscured by a pair of weeds shooting up. Frowning, Lehndorff bent down. The churchyard was well kept, overall, and he knew that the groundskeeper would be along to take care of it, but he couldn't help plucking the offenders anyway. There. 1711 to 1756.

It had been many years since Lehndorff had last visited this grave, and even longer since he'd talked to the man alive, but he found himself starting up a conversation as though no time at all had passed.

"I haven't been in touch with Frau von Keith for a year or two, but the last I heard, your boys are doing well. Karl's still in Turin, Prussian envoy to the Sardinian court. You'd be proud. Oh, I know you'd be proud if he did nothing but study, but he's being entrusted with important assignments. Like his father."

Even speaking to a man who couldn't hear, Lehndorff kept the envy out of his voice. He'd finally given up on getting anything better from the King than the position as Queen's chamberlain, and stepped down after thirty years of service. He moved far away from the disappointments of a king who never deigned to notice him and a prince who never reciprocated his passion, and now he returned to Berlin only for occasional visits.

"And your Friedrich-"

"Count Lehndorff!" A woman's voice surprised him.

Embarrassed, for some reason, although it wasn't entirely unheard of to talk to a grave, Lehndorff looked up and into the unexpected but always familiar face of Ariane von Keith.

"Lehndorff. I wasn't expecting to see you here." Her voice wavered with emotion, and then she stammered, "I mean, I didn't know you were in Berlin, I didn't-"

Recovering from his surprise, Lehndorff bowed. He reached out to take her offered hand in his, and belatedly realized he was still clutching the weeds. As gracefully as he could, he dropped them, while he raised her hand to his lips. "I never forgot Colonel Keith," he told her gently. "I'm visiting family and friends, and when I realized it was his birthday, I had to come pay my respects."

Ariane nodded. Lehndorff gave her a minute to collect herself. It obviously meant a lot to her to know that Keith was still remembered, even now.

"Would you like to be alone? I'm all done here."

"Only for a few minutes?" she replied. "I would like to talk to you. Or if you're busy, perhaps you could call on me during your stay?"

"I'm not at all busy," Lehndorff told her honestly. "I'd love to know what you've been doing. Take as much time as you need."

While she visited her husband's grave, he walked around the corner of the church, giving her privacy. On the street, he saw a carriage that he recognized as hers, though the coachman was new. Lehndorff had been strolling around Berlin earlier, reliving old memories and noticing the changes since he'd left, when he saw the church spire a few blocks away and remembered what day it was. He'd rather go on Keith's birthday than the anniversary of his death, anyway.

"He was fond of you," was the first thing Ariane said as she approached Lehndorff, somber but composed. "I was glad that, if we had to lose him so young, it was here in Berlin and that he had time to say farewell to the people he cared about. Shall we sit?" She gestured toward a bench beside the church wall.

Lehndorff smiled at her thoughtfulness. A childhood accident had left him with a damaged foot, and attempts to correct it had only extended the problem to his leg. He could walk well enough for short distances, if with a limp, but he had to rest frequently.

"I don't know if I ever told you this," he said as he sat down beside her, "but when the war started, and I couldn't join the army because of my bad leg, it helped to know that even though your husband could have marched to Saxony with everyone else, he chose--and he was allowed--to continue with his administrative responsibilities, at the Tiergarten and the palace, and of course the Academy. I ended up asking him how he dealt with being left behind. As always, I felt a good deal better after talking to him."

Something about Ariane's face hinted at the vivid memories this brought back. "He was a little less sanguine about staying behind the first time. That was when we met, you know. Of course, the second time he said he was given a choice, not a royal order, and that he felt he had important work to do, that needed to be done even in wartime."

"He told me. He said you were one of the few who gave him your whole-hearted support at a difficult time in his life, and that was one of the reasons he wanted to marry you."

"Did he?" That seemed to please her, as though Lehndorff had given her a gift. "I didn't know he talked about me with you."

"All the time," he said truthfully. "He loved you." She was too old for Lehndorff to feel anything for her but friendship, but he had no trouble understanding what Keith had seen in her. During the Russian occupation of Berlin, she'd even taken Lehndorff's mother under her wing. He, of all people, knew the old lady could be difficult at the best of times, and an emergency evacuation would put anyone under stress. Yet Ariane had been attentive enough to satisfy his mother's endless demands, something he wasn't sure he'd ever managed in his life. Since he couldn't look after her himself, knowing that his mother was well cared for had relieved him of a huge burden of worry. _A good heart and a good head in a crisis, your widow,_ Lehndorff had told Keith's ghost silently. He was forever in her debt.

"We had fifteen good years together." She was dry-eyed, obviously having made peace with an old grief. "I tell myself that was more than worth the twenty years of wishing for more."

"I feel the same way," Lehndorff told her. "I had less than that with Marie, but when I think of Prince Heinrich spending twenty-five years married to someone he can't love…"

She made a sympathetic noise. "Have you seen him?"

"I'm visiting him later this month. Meeting up with some family in Leipzig first, then traveling to Rheinsberg. And you, you haven't married again since you last wrote to me?"

"At my age?" she laughed. "No, but not out of faithfulness to his memory. When he knew he was dying, he said that I should marry again, if it would bring me any kind of happiness or security. I would have, but the King was generous, and I've found that marriage isn't necessary to my happiness. I'd bring my Peter back in a heartbeat, of course, but my life is full enough that I don't need to be married just for the sake of it."

Then she regarded him, evidently remembering how soon he had remarried after being widowed. "But I'm sure it's different if--Providence blessed me by allowing me to keep my children, after all."

Lehndorff gave her a hollow smile. By the time his Marie died, they had buried all of their children together. He and his second wife, Amalie, had since buried another, and now Karl was giving them sleepless nights. It had gotten so bad that they'd sent their son away in desperate hopes of a cure, and hadn't seen him in months.

"Please pray for my oldest," was all he said.

She was a wonderful woman, and her heartbreak at those words was visible on her face. "I will," she promised. "Every day."

When they finally parted, she thanked him with real warmth. "This visit was comforting in more ways than I expected. I wish you the best in your travels and a safe return home."

* * *

In Leipzig, Lehndorff made his way to the inn where he was staying, after an afternoon in the company of the Count of St. Germain. His mind was spinning so fast as he opened the front door that he scarcely took in anything around him. There were many rumors, but now that he'd met the man, Lehndorff didn't know what to think. Was the famous alchemist really immortal? He was certainly nothing like one would imagine. In fact, he was quite personable and even modest, at least in comparison to the braggart Lehndorff was expecting.

Well, there would be no lack of fodder for conversation at dinner tonight, that much was certain.

At the foot of the stairs, Lehndorff stopped for an oncoming whirlwind: a boy, five or six years old, whose legs were carrying him downstairs as fast as they could go. What a pretty child, Lehndorff thought, admiring the blooming roses on the young cheeks. He dearly hoped his next child, the one Amalie was carrying right now, would be healthy. After losing so many children and a wife, and living with the everpresent fear for Karl, that was all he asked.

He stepped aside to give the boy room to pass. But the boy, seeing his face, stopped and threw out his arms to Lehndorff. "Papa! Papa!"

A split second after he thought the child was talking to someone behind him, Lehndorff felt his jaw drop. "Karl?"

He recognized the voice, not the round face and the shining eyes. Children grew quickly, he knew that, but was this the boy with spindly legs and always suffering expression that he'd seen half a year ago?

Before he knew it, Karl's arms were wrapped tight around his father's leg, with unaccustomed strength. He let go gladly when Lehndorff pulled him up into his arms, a blissfully heavier weight than ever before.

Lehndorff was crying and Karl shrieking with joy as he spun him around and around. A perfect happiness, beyond his wildest dreams, suffused Lehndorff.

"Watch where you're going!" another lodger snapped at him, just as Karl's flying shoe hit the man's arm.

"I beg your pardon!" Lehndorff called, but he was too happy to truly care. He covered Karl's face with kisses.

From behind him, he heard Amalie's voice. "Oh, good, you found him!"

Lehndorff stopped spinning, but he kept on holding tight to Karl. In full sight of everyone, Amalie came up to them, and embraced them from the side. Her belly didn't quite prevent face-to-face hugging yet, but she'd started to say it was more comfortable this way.

Karl loved it for a minute, and then he started squirming. "Papa, I want to show you!"

As soon as Lehndorff put him down, giving Amalie a look of disbelieving euphoria, Karl grabbed his hand and started tugging on it. "I caught a frog! It's a big one. Come see."

Lehndorff was dragged along, laughing, while Amalie started to explain, "We decided to let him keep it-" and simultaneously, Karl launched into a description of just how and where and when he'd caught his quarry.

After the frog had been admired to Karl's satisfaction, they dined as a family: Lehndorff, Amalie, Karl, and Lehndorff's niece, who had been taking care of Karl while he was away.

The talk centered on the treatments Karl had gone through for the last few months, what had been tried and how he'd responded. Karl knew he was supposed to speak only when spoken to at the table, but he couldn't help interjecting his own perspective on events, and no one had the heart to reprimand him.

Lehndorff kept reaching out and caressing his curls. "And your bones don't hurt any more? You're sleeping well?"

Everything he heard was better than he'd expected. It was far different from reading a letter that said the boy seemed to be doing better, written by a loving relative who could be expected to seize desperately on the slightest sign of improvement. This was all of a father's prayers answered.

And mother's, too. Amalie kept looking back and forth between her husband and her son, catching Lehndorff's eye and mirroring a happiness that no words could capture. 

Lehndorff pitied the men and women he knew who left their children entirely to servants only because they were wealthy enough to. For all the pain of losing a child, the bliss of being given one back was tenfold in comparison. And if a child's return was pure joy, having a wife to share that joy with was completeness of a kind he'd never experienced anywhere else.

It was only much later, after he'd retired to his rooms and sat adding an entry to his diary before bed, that Lehndorff remembered he'd met the Count of St. Germain. Earlier in the day, a meeting with a celebrity had seemed like the most important thing that could have happened to him, and the only topic of discussion he could imagine reigning at dinner. Then he thought about how the dinner had turned out.

 _I must confess that this meal meant more to me than any with the most famous wits,_ he wrote, and closed his journal.

* * *

All in all, a satisfying afternoon, Heinrich reflected. For one, it was good to see his old friend Lehndorff again. Since he'd stepped down as chamberlain and moved to East Prussia, his regular visits to Rheinsberg Palace had been missed.

For another, the music had been excellent. That was always of supreme importance to Heinrich. Johann Mara in particular had played his cello like an angel from heaven today, all the while flashing Heinrich looks like the very devil. Only Mara could make chamber music into an act of sex. With every deep sound he coaxed from his instrument, Heinrich felt the pressure of the bow strokes as if against his very skin.

He tried to remind himself that he'd finally sent Mara away--for good, he said. This visit was something he'd permitted only for the sake of that music, which Heinrich could never refuse.

But taking him to bed once more, for old times' sake, didn't mean taking him back for real. It didn't mean paying off his debts again, or putting up with his tempers, or--oh, fuck. He was going to do it.

Wondering how on earth he talked himself into these things, Heinrich caught Mara's eye, then gave him an eyebrow raised in their old signal. _Now?_ He got a nod in reply. _Now._ So he excused himself from the company, saying that he was going to change and rest a little before dinner, and he went to his chambers. His palms were sweating and his heart racing in anticipation already. Then he opened a large book on architecture on his reading table, to flip through while he waited.

But despite his usual passion for building, his thoughts were entirely on the pleasures of giving into Mara's seduction, and his qualms about the same, while he stared unseeing at the page. He probably would have been able to resist temptation, had Kaphengst still been living here. But that had been the condition of Friedrich's "generous" largesse a few years ago. There was always a fucking catch. _You can have Rheinsberg, but you can't live there. You can live at Rheinsberg, but you have to get married. You can have a pile of money, but Kaphengst has to go._

Of course, he hadn't even had the decency to put it that politely. _As your older brother, it's my duty to save you from yourself, if you persist in letting your boytoy lead you around by the balls, had been more like it._ As if paying for Kaphengst's lifestyle meant Heinrich wasn't his own man.

Chronically short of cash, Heinrich hadn't been able to afford the satisfaction of throwing the offer back in his brother's face, but he'd found a way to keep his self-respect. Kaphengst had been kicked out of Rheinsberg, sure enough...and promptly installed in a lavish estate of his own, not far away, where Heinrich spent as much time as he possibly could with his lover. And even pointedly wrote to Friedrich from there, feeling like he'd won something. If he could only get Friedrich to admit it.

Did the man think everyone would forget he was king if he didn't rub their faces in his power every five minutes? He never knew what it was like to relate to someone as one human to another; he only wanted slaves. Or cogs in the machine of Prussia, as he called it. Well, Heinrich would fuck Kaphengst as much as he wanted, just as he'd separated from his wife, and his brother could deal with it.

The more Heinrich worked himself into a state of righteous anger, the more he was glad he'd given into temptation today. Friedrich didn't approve of Mara, either! No, he hadn't forbidden Heinrich to live with him. But when Mara wanted to get married, the King had thrown up all sorts of obstacles, culminating in his arrest, on the grounds that Elisabeth Schmeling was in the King's employ and didn't have permission to marry.

Only Heinrich's, _What, my cellist isn't good enough for your singer?_ , joined to Schmeling's pleas, had finally gotten Friedrich to drop it, with a raised eyebrow at how fast Heinrich's hackles went up.

_Fine. But I've warned her she'll regret it._

It was satisfying to have won that battle, even if he'd been opposed to the marriage too. It was during one of their many arguments that Mara had thrown his new catch in Heinrich's face with _I don't need you any more._ That had been the final straw for Heinrich. He'd broken it off with Mara of his own accord then, no meddling older brothers needed, and they hadn't seen each other except as acquaintances, until this week.

And Mara still wasn't here. Realizing how long he had waited, Heinrich sent a footman to ask if there was some delay.

Meanwhile, since working up one kind of appetite often stimulated another with him, Heinrich reached into the bowl of fruit on the table and popped a strawberry, small but perfect, into his mouth. 

Only after savoring its flavor did he remember its provenance: that regular fruit exchange between Sanssouci and Rheinsberg that the royal brothers had going. Despot or no, the bastard did know a thing or two about good food. 

He ate another, but this time its tart sweetness seemed to mock him. No matter where he looked in Rheinsberg, he saw Friedrich. Heinrich knew he could live here fifty years, and renovate every corner and every blade of grass, and Rheinsberg would still have Friedrich's long ago stay imprinted on its soul. There was something about him that was impossible to ignore, no matter how much Heinrich might want to.

Heinrich reached down and adjusted his breeches. Where was that damned Mara? He was so turned on he couldn't think straight.

The footman returned with a report that the virtuoso cellist was standing around chatting with the other musicians and the guests, and that he said he'd come when he was ready to come. Judging by the disapproving look on the footman's face, he'd censored a 'damn well' from the original message.

Heinrich repressed his impatience. Mara hadn't been back to Rheinsberg in a long time; no doubt there were other people he missed. And probably everyone wanted to praise him for his performance. Yes, that was most likely it. He turned back to his architecture and stared at the same page that the book had been open to since he sat down.

Finally, at the sound of approaching footsteps, Heinrich looked up for the hundredth time. That had better be Mara.

It was. He sauntered in without a care in the world, and tossed Heinrich an impudent look. "Let's do this."

In the thrill of finally seeing him, and the unbearably sensual way he moved in those skintight breeches that always hit Heinrich like the shockwave from a cannonball, Heinrich had a hard time remembering that he'd meant to give his favorite a mild scolding. Right.

"Look," he began, faltering through the speech he'd had on the tip of his tongue just a minute ago, "I'm not here to push you into anything you don't want, but you were the one sending signals. Next time, if you don't mean it, don't make me wait-" 

"What, or you'll turn me away?" Mara put his hands on the table and leaned over. His taunting eyes were only inches from Heinrich's, and the smell of wine heavy on his breath. He was still the most gorgeous man Heinrich had ever seen. "You don't want me?"

Why, why did Mara get even sexier when he had the upper hand in an argument? Heinrich's throat was so tight he could hardly speak. "I want you," he gasped. "That's why-"

"Then stop talking." Mara's mouth closed over his, and his hands over Heinrich's shoulders.

Heinrich hated being short, most of the time. Except when he was being manhandled in the bedroom. For a second, he struggled, loving the feeling of being forcibly subdued. But then Mara paused, and Heinrich remembered who he was with. He was too used to Kaphengst.

"Sorry," he said. There was no time to think of an excuse, because Mara already had him down on the bed and half undressed.

It was those hands, Heinrich found himself thinking dimly, through his lust-filled haze. He lay on his back, with his legs spread where Mara wanted them, while Mara worked slicked-up fingers inside his ass and stroked his erection with his free hand. Those hands had no business knowing his body like this, not after so long.

"Kaphengst can't do this to you," Mara boasted, after he elicited a particularly deep groan. His voice was husky. "Kaphengst doesn't have the fingers of a musician."

Kaphengst did a lot of things Mara didn't; Heinrich just couldn't think what they were right now. "You played that cello like-" He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to focus.

"Like it was you? I know. Lift up now." 

As he was positioning himself over Heinrich, he bent down and bit him, once, on the ear, right where Heinrich liked it. With his words, Mara was rough; when it came to his hands and body, he was all precision. He could do it even when he was much drunker than this, which Heinrich found impressive.

"You want this," Mara informed him, before he thrust his penis inside. He always said these things like there was no point in even asking, not even to hear Heinrich admit it. He said them with a disdainful confidence, like there was no question of their truth. There wasn't, of course. "You'll do anything for a good fuck, you can't live without it."

Heinrich whimpered. This need, this compulsion to be dominated, not just physically but emotionally, ruled him more than he wanted to realize, he who was so highbrow and urbane in the rest of his life. It was the contrast that excited him, the dark side of his soul.

Mara moved inside Heinrich without hesitation. He didn't stop to ask, or to check in. He did what he wanted with Heinrich's body, and he knew Heinrich would like it.

So sure of himself was he, as if he hadn't forgotten a thing in the intervening five years, that Heinrich was suddenly positive Mara had spent as much time as he had fantasizing about just this. He'd certainly jumped at the chance to come back, both to Rheinsberg and to Heinrich's bed. The condition of the visit had been that money would not be mentioned beyond the performance fee, and still he came.

_He wants me._

That was the thought that brought Heinrich off. He shuddered through his orgasm until the moment he was waiting for came.

 _Slap._ The back of Mara's hand cracked against his cheekbone.

"I didn't say it was time." Mara never wrestled Heinrich, just hit him once or twice, again with precision, and relied on his inner conviction that this would be enough, to compel Heinrich into submission.

It always was. Nothing in the world was sexier than arrogance.

"I-"

_Slap._

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Heinrich squirmed, all qualms about sex with Mara forgotten. "I'll make it up to you. You can do whatever you want to me."

What Mara wanted was Heinrich on his hands and knees, on the floor. Heinrich felt like collapsing bonelessly in bed and not doing anything for about a hundred years, but he went willingly into position, because Mara wanted it.

Then Mara took him hard, as if he'd only been toying with him until now. As if he didn't give a damn how this affected Heinrich, and was only here for his own enjoyment. Heinrich's mind was completely blank while Mara pounded away inside him. This was a different kind of pleasure from the pre-orgasmic kind, and Heinrich craved it just as much.

When he was done, Mara got to recover as long as he wanted, of course. Heinrich petted him while his gasping slowed to something like normal.

"Good fuck." He hopped up. "Now where's the wine?"

"You might feel better if you drank a little less," Heinrich protested, but Mara was already calling for a servant.

He was going to drink anyway, Heinrich reasoned. Quarreling wouldn't change that. Besides, when Heinrich didn't fight him, Mara rewarded him. He came and sat beside Heinrich on the bed, and let his lover put an arm around his waist. After these intense encounters, Heinrich felt the urge to indulge in some display of affection, as a counterbalance.

"How's life treating you?" he asked gently. Even if he couldn't deal with the volatility on a daily basis any more, he still wished Mara well.

Mara shrugged. "How could I complain? My wife's more famous than I am, and she makes a heap more money than anyone's ever given me. It pays."

A tug on Heinrich's heart proved that he hadn't fully cut this young man off from his emotions. He'd paid Mara's considerable expenses for a long, long time, for which he thought he deserved some credit, even if he couldn't pay the way the King could. He couldn't quibble with Friedrich's decision, either: Elisabeth Mara was something special. But it had to be hard for a man to be overshadowed by his wife.

"You're the best cellist I've ever known," he offered.

"And I'm not half bad in bed, either."

Heinrich had to laugh at his cockiness. "You know who's probably never had a really good lay in his life?"

Mara snorted. "Old stick in the mud outside? Lehndorff," he elaborated, when Heinrich looked blank.

"More respect, if you please," he snapped. Lehndorff was, in fact, too bland for Heinrich's tastes, but Heinrich would be damned if he'd give Mara that kind of ammunition. "Count Lehndorff and I were friends when you were born. No, I meant my brother."

That got a grin out of Mara. "Mister 'I'd rather write poetry than put out'?"

Heinrich quipped, "I hear he invited Algarotti to bed, gave him a sheet of paper with some verses on it, and was shocked to find out Algarotti thought there was a little more to it."

Mara laughed with him, then pushed Heinrich back onto the pillow and leaned over him. "You think too much about your brother in bed. Think about me."

* * *

With the utmost disapproval, Lehndorff watched Mara linger outside, having another drink, not only ignoring his prince's summons but flaunting his disrespect.

Finally, he couldn't stand it, and he stalked over to the young man. "You shouldn't make His Highness wait, you know. He put you through school!"

Mara just smirked in that infuriating way he had. "Beg your pardon, Count Lehndorff, but you don't know His Highness very well, or you'd act like a bastard too. It's the only way to get anywhere with him."

Stiffening, Lehndorf excused himself bitingly and turned away. There was no reasoning with some people. For one thing, Mara was a bastard round the clock, not only where Heinrich was concerned. 

As he stormed off, wishing his limp didn't make the effect less dramatic, Lehndorff refused all offers for company. He would walk the grounds of Rheinsberg alone with his thoughts, and not come back until the evening meal was served.

He didn't care how well Mara played the cello, he should never have been invited back. Lehndorff had just started to believe Heinrich really had broken it off with him for good this time. Now he had to endure the sight of that sneering face again. Wasn't Kaphengst bad enough? Did Heinrich really need two favorites at a time to run through his money like water, have scandals, and then not show any signs of loving him or even appreciating his eternal patience?

A spasm in his thigh brought Lehndorff to a grinding halt, physical and mental. He realized he had pushed himself too hard. At the best of times, he had to take care around his bad foot, and getting older wasn't doing him any good. He needed to remember that he was fifty now.

So he threw himself down on the nearest bench, in a fit of what could only be called sulking. The pain in his leg seemed a fitting accompaniment for his dark mood. Everything was unfair, not to Lehndorff so much as to Heinrich. Lehndorff would have loved his prince so tenderly, so devotedly, and for himself, not his money and position. He had loved him, in fact, without any hope of reward, for as long as he could remember. He couldn't have been much more than twenty when Eros struck. Why didn't Heinrich want a love affair that would make his life better? Why did he chase after the very people who caused him the most problems?

Finally, gradually, the beauty of the landscape began to penetrate into Lehndorff's bleak thoughts. Heinrich had done a stunning job renovating the place over the years, and he was still coming up with new ideas. The hedges, the flowers, the orchards, all carefully designed to strike a perfect balance between appearing orderly without being sterile, spontaneous without being chaotic. 

The paths wound around the gardens, by the lake, and through the woods, so that a traveler never knew what he was going to come upon next. Even to Lehndorff, who knew it by heart, Rheinsberg provided so much variety that he never tired of it.

Suddenly, in his mind, a sympathetic but firm voice informed him that he was wasting a perfectly lovely evening on a self-confessed bastard. And as hard as it was to stop seething, he couldn't argue with good advice, even good advice that had been given by someone he hadn't seen for twenty years.

 _I wish you could be here, Colonel Keith,_ Lehndorff thought wistfully. _I know what you really wanted was to live here with your own prince, when you were stuck in exile, but I think you'd appreciate what his brother did with the place after him._

 _You'll have to enjoy it for me,_ the voice seemed to say. It was normal for Lehndorff to find himself thinking of Keith when he was in the Tiergarten, but this was his first time he'd summoned his friend's spirit, as it were, here at Rheinsberg. Usually his thoughts were with Heinrich, but tonight he didn't want them to be, if that was going to make him unhappy.

 _What would be your favorite part?_ he wondered. _I'll show you around, and you can tell me. There's a temple to friendship; you'd like that._

He tried not to dwell on his regret that he hadn't reciprocated the Tiergarten tour with one here while Keith was still alive to enjoy it, and instead focused on making the best of what he had now.

He started by considering what the best place to give a tour to a ghost was. He couldn't walk too far in his condition, so it had to be nearby. For an imaginary, stationary tour, the location didn't matter too much, but all he could see here were trees, and he wanted something a little better.

The stone grotto. It was perfect: on the shore, with a nearly panoramic view of the water, the palace, and the woods around the lake. So he started limping in that direction.

Halfway there, he began to second-guess his decision, but he pressed on, gritting his teeth. When he arrived, he leaned back against the knobbly wall with his eyes closed, in worse pain than he'd reckoned with. This was a bad idea. But maybe if he just rested now, and judiciously stretched later, it would be all right.

In the distance, a waterbird called, coaxing Lehndorff's thoughts away from how it was all Mara's fault he'd overtaxed himself like this, and back to the tour he was supposed to be giving. He opened his eyes and let his gaze follow the path along the shore, stopping at every folly or garden structure that he remembered lay in that direction, and giving a thorough, admiring description.

When he got to the pagoda, he hesitated. Did it have two tiers, or three? Next time he was there in person, he would have to pay closer attention and not take it for granted. No one ever knew how much time he had left, whether he was five or fifty. Even the silhouettes the beeches and oaks were currently casting against the darkening sky were sights he could appreciate, and Keith never again would.

_Thank you, my friend. You're gone now, but it matters that you lived._

He was on surer ground with the Classical ruins. They were commissioned by Heinrich, not real ruins, but so meticulously researched, and positioned with a deceptive artlessness, that one could almost believe oneself in Italy. This would be Keith's favorite part, Lehndorff was suddenly sure of it. So he spent extra time on the broken columns.

_Did I ever tell you about the Remus myth? The locals say 'Rheinsberg' is a corruption of 'Remus-berg', from the time when Remus fled north to escape Romulus. Heinrich set up the ruins around an urn he pretends holds the ashes of the old founder of Rome._

Then Lehndorff realized what he should do. He should invite one of the Keith sons here, and perhaps pass on some good paternal advice while showing him around. At the very least, talk about Colonel Keith to them. They'd both been so young when their father died, surely they'd appreciate hearing some more stories from one of his friends.

While he was deep in these thoughts, Lehndorff heard someone calling his name. He struggled to stand up, his muscles cramping, and he called back.

It was one of the Prince's retainers, sent because the food was being served, and Heinrich wanted to talk to Lehndorff at dinner. That message put the finishing touches on Lehndorff's good mood. No matter how far he wandered, Heinrich would come looking for him.

Because of the weather, they were dining outside. Lehndorff was glad. Not only because it meant a shorter walk, but because the warm air and starry night brought back such lovely memories. When he arrived at the table, Heinrich gestured at the place that had been set beside him. He looked with concern at Lehndorff's exaggerated limp, then smiled his relief when Lehndorff assured him that it was nothing serious, and a night's rest would have him back to normal.

"I hope so. Not least because I've written another play, and I was hoping you'd take one of the roles. I wrote it with you in mind."

"My prince, I'd love to!" Then Lehndorff remembered. "The only possible obstacle is that I want to be back home before my wife gives birth. So as long as we can put on the performance before I have to leave, I'd be thrilled to accept."

"We'll make sure of it," Heinrich promised. "How is the pregnancy treating her?"

"As well as can be expected. I wouldn't have left if she'd been having unusual difficulties."

"How's your boy Karl?" Heinrich asked, visibly distressed as he remembered. "Not still sick?"

Lehndorff sat upright, a bolt of joy running through him. "No, not at all! I missed him something awful while he was away, but the cure worked miracles. I didn't even recognize him at first. You have no idea what it does to me to see him running around and laughing like any other child. I felt like my soul became one with his."

"I do," Heinrich assured him. "I understand."

Lehndorff thought he might. Even in an unhappy marriage, with no children himself, Heinrich was still so capable of investing himself in the happiness of others that he had more than one adoptive son, as it were, whom he'd supported and educated and guided and loved as though they were his own.

Thoughts of how worthy of adoration his prince was made Lehndorff's heart beat faster. Even if they never had more than friendship, this man's lifelong friendship was a hundred times better than passion from a lesser individual. 

"I was glad you were able to marry again, after your tragic losses," Heinrich added. He reached out and pressed Lehndorff's hand.

Lehndorff pressed back, hard. "I can't thank you enough for what you did. I don't know how I would have gotten through that time without you." After Marie followed the last of their children into the grave, Lehndorff had been prostrated by grief. Heinrich had come through for him, insisting that Lehndorff accompany him on his travels. Then, no matter where in Europe they were, he was nothing but kindness and attentiveness embodied. He hadn't let Lehndorff go until he was sure his friend would be all right on his own.

Lehndorff's eyes filled with tears, not for the remembered grief so much as the unexpected salvation from two quarters, first Heinrich and then Amalie. "I had a good friend once, who said I might not marry for passion, but I would find someone I could love, and my children would be my whole world. He didn't live to see it, but he was right. Twice."

Keith had been luckier than Lehndorff, in some ways: he didn't outlive his wife or children. But the flip side of that was dying--if not young, precisely, then still far too young. Lehndorff was older now than Keith had ever lived to be. 

"Sometimes I talk to him as though he were still alive," Lehndorff admitted.

"Of course you do. Why do you think I erected a temple to friendship? Passion comes and goes like a sickness; friendship is a goddess, unaging and undying."

For a moment, Lehndorff was stung. Heinrich's passions came and went; his own had lasted for decades. His only attempts to damp it down had come when he was convinced Heinrich had forgotten him, and they'd all been unsuccessful.

But Heinrich hadn't forgotten him. He never obsessed over Lehndorff the way he did a Mara or a Kalckreuth, unscrupulous snakes that they were, but they all went their separate ways eventually, and surely Kaphengst would too. Lehndorff was still here.

Comforted, he smiled. "Well, tell me more about the new play. I'm sure to love it." Heinrich always researched his productions with a thoroughness that astonished those who didn't know him. The costuming and the props received as much attention as much as the script. Any piece he put on would truly transport the audience to another place and time.

To support his theatrical and musical efforts, the Prince hired staff based less on their reliability at their official jobs and more on their abilities to fill talent gaps. It didn't always make for the best service, but it did make for first-rate entertainment, at a court that rivaled the one at Potsdam.

And at dinners like this, Heinrich's deftness as host more than compensated for any deficiencies among the staff. Lehndorff admired, as always, his prince's consideration. Heinrich ate and drank sparingly himself, but his guests always left his table satisfied. Though he favored Lehndorff with special attention on this night, he didn't neglect anyone else, either. As soon as he'd regaled Lehndorff with the details of his latest theatrical ideas, he turned to his other neighbors and dived enthusiastically into their discussion.

While he was making them all laugh, Lehndorff took advantage of the temporary invisibility just to let his eyes linger on Heinrich's face. When the sight of the smallpox scars reminded him of how narrowly he and his prince had escaped the cruel fate of never meeting, Lehndorff's fingers twitched with the urge to caress every one. They were proof that Heinrich had lived long enough to make a difference in the world.

So was his wandering eye, evidence not only of his courage during the war but a sign that he'd survived every wound to come home. There were altogether too many who hadn't.

The thought stuck with him, and so, the following day, after he had recovered from his overexertion, Lehndorff asked Heinrich if they could go to the temple together, just the two of them, and make a thank-offering. Not to a literal goddess, of course, but to the symbol of friendship, called by a name of venerable antiquity.

"Of course. I made an offering shortly after I inaugurated it, in hopes of seeing you here again, after you moved far away. It's high time for a thank-offering."

Statements like that almost made Lehndorff wish he could believe, like the ancient pagans, that his offering would be received by whatever deity had blessed him. He could understand the Catholics and their saints, though he was a Protestant himself.

Instead, he told himself to treasure every moment of this afternoon, and to carry it with him to the grave.

They took Heinrich's own carriage, for it was too far to walk, and ascended the hill to the temple Heinrich had commissioned. It was an elegant, octagonal building, with high windows and an altar at the center.

Heinrich filled the goblet of wine from which they would both drink to honor the goddess, took a sip, and handed it to Lehndorff. "To thirty years."

"To thirty years."

"So who's this friend you still talk to?" he asked Lehndorff, when the rituals were complete. "I'd like to hear more about him."

This temple was only a few years old, but the altar in Lehndorff's heart to Heinrich went back to the beginning. Of course he wanted to hear about Lehndorff's long-ago friend. Anything that mattered to Lehndorff mattered to Heinrich. How could he help loving this man?

So Lehndorff began to remember Keith aloud. Not his involvement in the present king's youthful attempt to flee Prussia, now shrouded in the mists of legend, but the man as Lehndorff knew him, many years later: kind and decent, quiet and bookish, yet talkative enough in the company of someone he knew well, insecure and prone to worrying.

Smelling the fragrant boughs on the altar and seeing the twin candles burn reminded Lehndorff that the ancients believed that the smoke carried the scent of the offering up to the heavens, and that it was the smells that the gods found pleasing.

He watched the smoke climb toward the blue and white sky above, and he wondered if somewhere up there, the spirit of Peter von Keith was looking down from Heaven and watching over his family and friends.

Just then, the sun flickered from behind a cloud and poured golden light into the temple, as if to say, _Yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Departures from strict chronology are too numerous to mention. For the most part, they consist of compressing and/or reordering the timeline of events within a single month or at least year.
> 
> The episode that I chose to invent despite its being contradicted by the historical record is Mara's visit to Rheinsberg in 1777. However, Heinrich and Mara did have an on-again, off-again relationship before they broke up for good, so it's not entirely out of character for Heinrich to give into temptation for one roll in the hay with his old flame. It was either an unhistorical Mara visit, or a canon-consistent Kaphengst sex scene, and all in all, Selena, I thought you'd prefer the invented Mara visit. ;)
> 
> To reduce the potential for character confusion and increase readability for the average modern reader, I also relied more on first names for the wives than would be strictly historically accurate.


End file.
